“A hell!” said Lilburne, with his frigid smile; “the rogue’s head runs upon gambling-houses!”
“And I have suffered Philip again to escape me,” said Arthur, in self-reproach: for while Gawtrey had addressed Lord Lilburne, Morton had plunged back amidst the labyrinth of alleys. “How have I kept my oath?”
“Come! your guests must have arrived by this time. As for that wretched young man, depend upon it that he is corrupted body and soul.”
“But he is my own cousin.”
“Pooh! there is no relationship in natural children: besides, he will find you out fast enough. Ragged claimants are not long too proud to beg.”
“You speak in earnest?” said Arthur, irresolutely. “Ay! trust my experience of the world—Allons!”
And in a cabinet of the very restaurant, adjoining that in which the solitary Gawtrey gorged his conscience, Lilburne, Arthur, and their gay friends, soon forgetful of all but the roses of the moment, bathed their airy spirits in the dews of the mirthful wine. Oh, extremes of life! Oh, Night! Oh, Morning!
CHAPTER IX.
“Meantime a moving scene was open laid, That lazar house.”—THOMSON’S Castle of Indolence.